It's In The Little Moments
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: The little moments make the bigger picture. Rated for sexual innuendo and language.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom**

 **Word Count - 1482**

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 **It's In The Little Moments**

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It started with respect, borne of watching Harry grow from a teen to a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he got a front row seat.

It started with moments stolen in time.

It started with a laugh, a bang, and possibly an 'oh shit.'

It started with a friendship woven by war but glued by personalities that were bound together in harmony.

…

Kingsley tidied up the board, the chess pieces complaining bitterly as he put them away.

"They hate me," Harry complained, frowning at his own pieces. "I don't think I've won a match, you know?"

Kingsley snorted.

He poured them both a drink and, after handing Harry his own, sat back in his seat.

"How are you doing in training?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not really my favoured brand of chaos, but it's interesting and we're learning a lot."

Laughing, Kingsley shook his head. "And the press."

"I have a plan," Harry told him, his voice lowered conspiringly.

"No murder."

"I do not have a plan," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "They might be driving me a bit insane."

"A bit?"

Harry held his thumb and forefinger close together. "Little bit. You'd think they'd back off; I reached my peak months ago. Surely they can't still be interested in what I had for lunch, or who's cock I sucked?"

Kingsley choked on his drink, spluttering. When he saw Harry smirking, he shook his head. "You're a shit, Harry Potter."

Harry nodded, his smirk softening to a genuine smile. "I know. It's part of my charm."

…

"How on earth did you break your leg while babysitting?" Kingsley asked, blinking at Harry.

The younger man shrugged. "The kids wanted to go mattress surfing, so we turned the stairs into a slide. It didn't go well."

"... mattress surfing?"

"Uh huh."

"Care to explain?"

"It's fairly self evident, King. You surf a mattress. It's good fun, you should try it."

"I'm the Minister for Magic. Pretty sure I shouldn't be surfing mattresses."

Harry blinked. "Well. When you put it that way. No wonder you're always grumpy if you haven't surfed any mattresses since you became Minister though."

…

"Harry?"

"In the garage!" Harry shouted.

Kingsley shook his head, walking through the familiar home to the back, where an oily Harry greeted him at the garage door.

"What are you doing?" Kingsley asked, curiously.

"Come look," Harry offered, nodding his head behind him. Kingsley followed Harry inside, surprised to find a silver and black motorbike gleaming in the middle of the barren garage.

"Was that Sirius' bike?" he asked, a memory of Harry telling him about it crashing in Andromeda's garden surfacing in his mind.

Harry nodded. "Andy let me get it after the war. I've decided to restore it, but this oil is hard work. Who know oil was so slick - bleh."

Kingsley coughed, hiding a laugh. "The word oil should probably tell you that, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "The oil I'm used to isn't black and sticky, King."

Shaking his head, Kingsley asked, "Is it rideable?"

"Not yet. Should be soon though. You like bikes?"

Smiling, Kingsley headed towards the door. "They're the sexiest way to travel, Harry, did nobody ever tell you that, either?"

…

Harry rubbed his arms with his hands, trying to warm himself up with the friction. It wasn't helping much, but he couldn't leave to get his cloak, and Molly had warned them about not casting magic.

The solstice was upon them, and this was the first year they'd decided to get together and celebrate. The kids ran around the fires, laughing and shouting at each other. Groups of adults stood around, drinking and talking.

"You okay?"

"Cold, and Molly said no hocus pocus to warm me up. This fire isn't helping either."

Kingsley shook his head.

"I don't know how you survived to twenty five, Harry. You're absolutely shocking at looking after yourself."

Wrapping his arm around Harry shoulders, he pulled the younger man close, his larger hands generating heat against the cold skin of Harry's arm.

"My hero," Harry murmured, leaning into Kingsley's embrace. "Hmm. You smell good. I didn't know that."

…

Kingsley sat at the bedside, holding the small hand in his own. Harry looked so small in the hospital bed. Kingsley didn't like it.

He felt the younger man twitch, and looked up to see green eyes looking at him, full of confusion.

"What happened?"

"You got hit by a bus," Kingsley deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"Huh. Odd, I feel more like I got hit by a train. But really, what happened?"

With a deep sigh, Kingsley explained what had landed Harry in the hospital. "The Auror's you were working with didn't clear the area very well. You took a hit to the back with an unknown curse and it knocked you out cold. Thankfully, the healers managed to identify and heal you within a few hours of arriving here."

Harry nodded slowly, wincing.

"That'll explain the feeling of being hit by a fast moving vehicle then. How long have I been here?"

Kingsley looked at the clock on the wall. "Thirteen hours."

"Have you been here the entire time?" Harry asked, after a moment's pause. When Kingsley nodded, green eyes widened. "But, you're the Minister. You're supposed to be running the world. Or something. Whatever it is you do."

Chuckling, Kingsley squeezed the hand he was still holding.

"You're more important."

…

"I brought you scones!"

"I love you."

Harry grinned. "I always knew you did. Bit of a cheap date, though, King, you should work on that mate. I haven't even cooked you dinner."

"You cook me dinner all the time."

"And you haven't put out yet? Shame on you for being a tease!"

Kingsley shook his head as he unpacked the scones Harry had baked. In the box, there was also butter, jam and chantilly cream.

"You really are my favourite," he said, practically salivating at the food on his desk. Paperwork forgotten, he waved Harry into the seat in front of his desk.

"So, to what do I owe such a marvellous surprise?" he asked, adding liberal amounts of toppings to his scone.

"Ah, well, you, uh, I mean…"

"I know you have better vocabulary, Harry. Use your words."

"Don't be a dick," Harry said, glaring playfully. "You sat with me in the hospital. For seventeen hours. And then you took me home and stayed with me. That… was good."

Kingsley stared at him for a moment. "You don't need to thank me for that, Harry. Not ever."

"Hush. Eat your scone."

…

"Hugo has an imaginary friend and it creeps me out."

Kingsley blinked. Harry dropped onto the sofa beside him, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They were at Kingsley's home, the Minister getting a rare night off work in time to cook. Of course he'd immediately invited Harry to join him.

"Why does it creep you out?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. It's just a bit… weird, init?"

"... Hugo is four."

Harry laughed. "And I'm being a bit of a tit, aren't I?"

Kingsley put his thumb and forefinger together. "Little bit. Though if he still has an imaginary friend when he's twenty… you should tell Ron and Hermione to take him to see someone."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be a git."

"You look tired. You're not sleeping again?"

"Ehhh. Closet insomnia."

"Closet nothing. Why are you not sleeping?"

"Dry spell."

"Harry," Kingsley sighed. He knew Harry, and he knew his trick of deflecting with humour too well to be distracted by it. "Talk to me."

Harry opened his eyes and met Kingsley's. The vulnerable look took Kingsley's breath away.

"I love you, you know?" Harry said after a moment.

"Harry?"

"I wasn't going to tell you. I thought… well. You're… you. What would you want with me? But… I'm too goddamn tired to hide it anymore. And thinking about it. All night. All night every night. It's a lot."

"That's why you're not sleeping?"

"Uh huh."

"Idiot."

Kingsley wrapped his arm around Harry, pulling him closer so he was snuggled into his side. Pressing a soft kiss to Harry's temple, he muttered, "You're a tit. Go to sleep."

"King?"

"I love you too. Idiot. Sleep."

…

It ended with a contented sigh and a warm body in his arms. With messy black hair, now streaked with grey, in his face, and pale arms resting against his own darker torso.

It ended with retirement, for him as the Minister, for Harry as a long standing, highly decorated, Auror.

It ended with a kiss and a caress and an 'I love you' whispered into the darkness.

It ended with happiness neither thought they would feel.

It ended with scones on the patio deck of their cottage, in the morning sunshine of a dewy spring morning.

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 **Written for;**

 **Creativity Month** \- HarryKingsley - 13. "I have a plan." / "No murder." / "I do not have a plan."

 **Character Appreciation** \- 22. Order of the Phoenix.

 **Book Club** \- Charlie Ridgemont - Chess Piece / Imaginary / Vocabulary

 **Showtime** \- 10. Razzle Dazzle - Hocus pocus

 **Buttons** \- O3. Motorbike

 **Sophie's Shelf** \- 6. Friction, Peak, Slide, Caress, Slick, Vulnerable

 **Caffeine Awareness** \- Eiskaffee - Scone


End file.
